CHAPTER XI.

Return of the Duke and Duchess—Their reception—The Duchess’s advice to her husband—Political changes in which the Duke and Duchess were partly concerned.—1714.

On the day before the Queen’s demise, the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough arrived at Ostend from Antwerp, for the purpose of embarking for Dover. This step had been for some time in contemplation by the Duke, although the reasons which finally decided him to return to his country have never been exactly ascertained. He had refused, so late as the month of July, 1714, to sign the Whig association, presented for his approval by Lord Onslow, the deputy of that party.[221]He was addressed both by Bolingbroke and by Harley, but not claimed as an adherent by either of these politicians. So confident were both these ministers of his aid, thatthey ordered him to be received at the ports with the same honours as he had met with on returning after his victories; but these directions were countermanded, when it was understood that he would not participate in any of the politics of the day.[222]

The Duchess had already announced to her correspondents in England the project entertained by herself and the Duke, of again residing in their beloved England. On arriving at Ostend, she wrote to her friend, Mrs. Clayton, whose husband, a clerk in the treasury, was one of the managers of the Duke’s estates during his absence.

“July 30, 1714.

“I am sure my dear friend will be glad to hear that we are come well to this place, where we wait for a fair wind; and in the mean time, are in a very clean house, and have everything good but water. It is not to be told in this letter the respect and affection shown to the Duke of Marlborough, in every place where he goes, which always makes me remember our governors in the manner that is natural to do; and upon this journey, one thing has happened that was surprising and very pretty. The Duke of Marlboroughcontrived it so as to avoid going into the great towns as well as he could, and for that reason went a little out of the way, not to go through Ghent; but the chief magistrates, hearing he was to pass, met him upon the road, and had prepared a very handsome breakfast for all that was with us, in a little village, where one of their ladies staid to do the honours; and there was in the company a considerable churchman that was lame, and had not been out of his room for a great while, but would give himself this trouble. This is to show you how the Roman Catholics love those that have served them well. Among the governors of that town there were a great many officers that came out with them on foot; and I was so much surprised and touched at their kindness, that I could not speak to the officers without a good deal of concern, saying I was sorry for what they did, fearing it might hurt them; to which they replied, very politically or ignorantly, I don’t know which, sure it was not possible for them to suffer for having done their duty. The next day Mr. Sutton met us with other officers, and did a great many civilities, in bringing wine and very good fruits, but I was not so much surprised at that, because he is so well with the ministers he may do what he pleases. The Duke of Marlboroughis determined to stay here till he has a very fair wind and good weather, and not to be at London till three or four days after he lands at Dover, because we have so many horses and servants, that we can’t travel fast.”[223]

After a few days of suspense as well as of delay at Ostend, the Duke and Duchess set sail, and, after a stormy passage, were met, and their vessel was boarded, by a message from Sir Thomas Frankland, the postmaster-general, who announced the Queen’s death.[224]The Duke landed on the first of August, memorable for the accession of George the First, and was received by the Mayor and Jurats of the town with all formalities, and saluted by a discharge of great guns from the platform, but not from the castle, which pays such tribute to no one but the sovereign. Amid the acclamations of the assembled crowds, the Duke and Duchess proceeded to the house of Sir Henry Furnese, whose hospitable roof had received the great general, previous to his departure for his exile on the continent.

These rejoicings were much censured, as being indecent on the very day after the Queen’s death; and it was affirmed in excuse, that even the worshipful authorities of Dover were not apprised of that event when they received the Duke withnoisy honours.[225]But the Duchess, sincere in all things, left in her narrative an explicit statement that the Duke had been informed of Anne’s decease whilst he was at sea.

Meantime, by an act of parliament passed in the fourth and fifth years of the late reign, a regency, consisting of the seven highest officers of the realm, came into immediate operation: and to these lords justices were added seventeen other noblemen, all heads of the Whig party, whom George the First was empowered, by the same act, to appoint. The Duke of Marlborough might reasonably have expected to find himself included among the persons thus honoured; but, on his progress to Sittingbourne, he was met by a former aide-de-camp, with the intelligence that neither his name nor that of Lord Sunderland was included in this catalogue.

Marlborough received this communication with the calmness that became a superior mind. His exclusion is said to have been the result of pique in the Elector, father of the King of England, on account of some want of confidence reposed in him by Marlborough, with respect to the operations of the campaign of 1708. It was attributed by others to the reported correspondence between Marlborough and the Stuart family. Be thecause what it might, this ungracious conduct was received both by the Duke and Duchess with a becoming spirit. They continued their journey to the metropolis, intending to enter it privately; but their friends would not suffer that Marlborough should thus return to dwell among them again. A number of gentlemen had attended them to Sittingbourne, and by them, and by others who met him there, he was, in part, forced to permit the honourable reception which awaited him. Sir Charles Cox, the member for Southwark, met him as he approached the borough, and escorted him into the city. Here he was joined by two hundred gentlemen on horseback, and by many of his relations, some of them in coaches and six, who joined the procession, the city volunteers marching before. In this manner the Duke proceeded to St. James’s, the people exclaiming as he passed along, “Long live King George—long live the Duke of Marlborough!”

At Temple Bar the Duke’s coach broke down, but without any person sustaining injury, and he proceeded to his house in St. James’s, in another carriage, the city guard firing a volley before they departed. The evening was passed in receiving friends and relations; with what sweet and bitter recollections, it is easy to conceive.

On the following day the Duke was visited by the foreign ministers, by many of the nobility and gentry then in the metropolis, and by numerous military men. He was sworn of the privy council, and once more appeared in the House of Lords, where he took the oaths of allegiance. But, on the prorogation of parliament to the twelfth, he retired to Holywell-house, there to conquer the vexation and disappointment which his exclusion from the regency undoubtedly occasioned him. On this occasion, the spirit of Lady Marlborough displayed itself, with a magnanimity and sound discretion which redeemed her many faults. Bothmar, the Hanoverian minister, visited the Duke in his retreat, and sought to apologise for the omission of his illustrious name from among the distinguished statesmen who were appointed lords justices. The Duke listened to these excuses with his usual courtesy, but he wisely adopted the advice of the Duchess, and declined at present again holding any official appointment.

“I begged of the Duke of Marlborough, upon my knees,” relates the Duchess, “that he would never accept any employment. I said, everybody that liked the Revolution and the securityof the law, had a great esteem for him, that he had a greater fortune than he wanted, and that a man who had had such success, with such an estate, would be of more use to any court than they could be to him; that I would live civilly with them, if they were so to me, but would never put it into the power of any king to use me ill. He was entirely of this opinion, and determined to quit all, and serve them only when he could act honestly, and do his country service at the same time.”[226]

Six weeks elapsed between the death of Queen Anne and the arrival of her successor. On the sixteenth of August, the King embarked at Orange-Holder, and landed two days afterwards at Greenwich. Every ship in the river saluted the royal vessel as it sailed, and multitudes thronged the banks of the Thames, uttering loud acclamations of joy at the arrival of the monarch. Yet George the First, a man of plain understanding, without ambition, the romance of monarchs, felt, it is said, that he had arrived to claim a crown not his own, and had an uncomfortable notion all his life, that he was somewhat of a character to which nature had little disposed him, an usurper. In the evening of his landing,the royal house at Greenwich was crowded with nobility and gentry, amongst whom the Duke of Marlborough (who was regarded as a kind of martyr to the “criminals” of the last reign, as it was now the fashion to term Queen Anne’s last ministry) was pre-eminently distinguished by the new sovereign.[227]

The character of King George the First was well adapted to put an end to the furious factions by which the court had now for many years been disgraced, public business had been impeded, and peace long delayed, and obtained by the sacrifice of consistency. Of a plain exterior, simple habits, devoid of imagination, ignorant of English, and endowed with a vast proportion of German good nature and German indolence, the King had little of that propensity to favouritism which had filled the courts of his Stuart predecessors, and even of the just and stern William, with cabals. It may be said, that the reputation of George the First was far greater before he came to the throne of England, than after he ascended to that, in his time, uncomfortable eminence. He had distinguished himself in military operations, yet, when King of England, had the wisdom to forego a desire of fame which might have provedruinous to his adopted people. His career as a warrior began and ended early. He had governed his German subjects with regard to the principles of the English constitution. It was the work of a corrupt English ministry to lead him from these honest intentions and worthy practices. It has been wittily said by Lord Chesterfield, that “England was too large for him.[228]” He found the court thronged with Whigs, to whom he showed marks of decided preference; yet not, it was suspected, without a design of borrowing strength to his still disputed title, by conciliating some of the Tory party.

One of the King’s first measures was to restore Marlborough to his post as captain-general of the land forces, to make him colonel of the first regiment of foot-guards, and master-general of the ordnance. The Earl of Sunderland was appointed Lord-lieutenant of Ireland; and a Whig cabinet was soon completely formed.

Dr. Arbuthnot, who, in his semi-medical, semi-political capacity, dived into the intricacies of court intrigues, remarks, that it were worth while living to seventy-three, from curiosity to see the changes in this strange medley of events, the world. It was but lately that the Duke of Marlborough hadyielded to the solicitations of his Duchess, that he would accept of no employment whatsoever in the administration; he now broke through that wise resolution, tempted, it is supposed, by the appointment of his son-in-law to various offices in the royal household. Lord Godolphin had the post of cofferer to the household; and Lord Bridgwater was appointed chamberlain to the Prince of Wales. The Duke and Duchess of Montague had also preferments of importance.

But, with respect to Marlborough, these marks of royal favour availed but little: he never regained political influence. Sunderland, whose active spirit might have re-established the interests of his family, was, in fact, banished from the court by his appointment, and his great father-in-law ceased to be consulted in matters of state, and sank, finally, into a private station. The routine of his office, indeed, rendered his visits to the metropolis imperative; but it was unconnected with any political importance.

The invasion of England by the Pretender drew Marlborough somewhat from the state of neutrality with regard to public affairs, in which he reposed. Whatever might have been his previous conduct with regard to the exiled Stuarts, he now, with other eminent and loyal men, contributed a voluntary loan to the Treasury, tomeet the emergencies of the state, and, on his private credit alone, raised a considerable sum within the space of a few hours. With the foresight of long experience, he foretold the disastrous engagement at Preston, and even marked the distinct spot on which all the hopes of the gallant and ill-fated enemy were doomed to be foundered.[229]

The Duke and Duchess of Marlborough retired almost wholly to their house at Holywell, where, assembling at times their children and grandchildren around them, they tasted at length of that happiness for which one of this distinguished couple, at least, had continually pined, in absence. The peaceful retirement, which had so often been the theme of Marlborough’s letters, came at last; but, like many long-desired blessings, it came hand in hand with care. It was not at this period that the broken health and weakened mind of Marlborough cast a gloom over that circle of young and old, of which he was the life and centre. For some years after the accession of George the First, Marlborough continued to be a healthy and an active man; riding on horseback or driving about, and delighting, when he was at Blenheim, in walking about the grounds, inspecting those beautifulornate scenes which his taste and wealth had caused to flourish around him. In the evening he received his friends without ceremony, and joined in the games of ombre, basset, and picquet, or of whist, his favourite game; and the illustrious and amiable Marlborough often descended to a pool of commerce with his grandchildren.

It was during this season of retirement that the Duchess began the compilation of “Memoirs of the Duke,” a work which was not published. That she prized his fame far more than her own justification, is manifest from her commencing this undertaking when her faculties were in their full vigour, and her opportunities of consulting living testimony were still, in most cases, to be obtained; while she left the completion of her own Vindication until a late period of her existence.[230]

Amongst the more important and less peaceful occupations which engaged the attention of the Duke and Duchess, the building of Blenheim formed one of the circumstances most obnoxious to his tranquillity of mind.

The disputes, to which the management of thisnational gift gave rise, might occupy a volume; they must, however, remain to be discussed at a more advanced period of this work. But the erection of that superb habitation, which the Duke of Marlborough lived not to see completed, induced an acquaintance with one of the most versatile wits of the day, Sir John Vanburgh.

The character and conduct of this distinguished dramatist and indifferent sculptor had no inconsiderable effect upon the tranquillity of the Duchess of Marlborough, with whose confidence this experienced man of the world was honoured. A very singular, and to both the writers a very discreditable correspondence, between the Duchess and Vanburgh, is preserved among the manuscript stores of the British Museum. Since it elucidates some passages of the Duchess’s domestic life, and unfolds some material points of character, a few extracts from this singular correspondence may not be uninteresting, more especially as the letters have never been introduced in any publication, either in their original form, or in substance. Before entering upon the occurrences to which it refers, a brief account of one of the parties is necessary.

Sir John Vanburgh was descended from a family originally from Ghent; his grandfather,Gibes Vanburgh, or Vanburg, being obliged to fly from that city on account of the persecution of the Protestants. The father of Sir John Vanburgh became a sugar-baker in Chester, where he amassed a considerable fortune, and, removing to London, obtained the place of comptroller of the treasury chamber. His mother was Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Dudley Carleton of Ember Court, Surrey.

The future dramatist and architect was one of eight sons, and was destined for the army. A love of desultory reading, and a youthful acquaintance with Congreve, led him, however, to the stage. So early as 1698, the youth, relinquishing a soldier’s life, produced two comedies, the “Relapse” and the “Provoked Wife;” both remarkable for the wit of their dialogue, and for the licentiousness of the sentiments.

For some years the fascinations of public applause riveted this capricious genius to the occupation of a dramatist. During the first years of Anne’s reign, he accomplished the erection, by subscription, of the Haymarket Theatre, for the building of which he had interest enough to obtain a sum of three thousand pounds from thirty persons of rank, each of whom subscribed a hundred pounds. At this time the courtly Vanburghpaid a public tribute to the Marlborough family, by inscribing on the first stone that was laid of the theatre, the words, “The Little Whig,” in compliment to Lady Sunderland, popularly known by that designation. It was in this theatre that, in conjunction with Congreve, he managed the affairs of Betterton’s company, and produced for their benefit comedies which would not now be tolerated for a single evening, on a stage, pure in its subjects as compared with that of the last century.

It is said by Cibber that Vanburgh eventually repented of the immoral tendency of his works, and that he would willingly have sought to retrieve his errors by more chastened publications. Those authors, who degrade themselves, and debase the minds of others, should remember, that it is impossible to counteract the baneful effects of that species of poison, which of all others is the most easily disseminated. The envenomed shaft of licentious wit never flies in vain, nor can its direful progress be recalled.

It is uncertain at what time Vanburgh became an architect; but he must very rapidly have attained eminence, since his first great work, “Castle Howard,” was completed before Blenheim became habitable.

Handsome in countenance, witty, accomplished,and not of lowly birth, Vanburgh soon won the favour of those with whom he was, from his occupations, brought into contact. His cheerfulness was never overclouded by any misfortune. Even during a temporary confinement in the Bastile, his spirits were unabated, and the great secret of his composure was employment.[231]

It appears extraordinary that so inferior a sculptor as Vanburgh should have been selected to build a palace raised at the expense of the nation. Although satirised by Swift, Walpole, and Pope, Sir John Vanburgh had, however, his admirers, and received high encomiums from Sir Joshua Reynolds, who declares, “that in his architectural works there is a greater display of imagination than in any other.” “He had,” says Sir Joshua, “great originality of invention; he understood light and shadow, and had great skill in composition.” These, with other commendations, from the same great judge, might have rescued many characters from the reproaches of posterity; but Blenheim, massive without grandeur,and laboured in style, without unity of design, stands an everlasting reproach to its architect.

The intimacy of Vanburgh with all the leading characters of the day accounts for the confidence with which he was treated by the Duchess of Marlborough, on the nicest of all points—the disposal in marriage of those in whom she was deeply interested. The singular correspondence which we shall presently introduce to our readers, marks the intimacy which subsisted between the architect and the patron. Like many such unequal alliances, familiarity, in this instance, produced contempt.

The Duchess, indignant as she became at the impertinence and assurance of Vanburgh, never assisted him to any office; but, in 1704, Vanburgh was, by the interest of Charles Earl of Carlisle, promoted to the appointment of Clarencieux king-at-arms; a proceeding which was naturally resented by the whole college of heralds, who were indignant at having a stranger, and one without the slightest knowledge of heraldry or genealogy, made king-at-arms.[232]

Sir John was appointed controller of the royal works, and surveyor of the works at GreenwichHospital. He resided at Vanburgh Fields, Maize Hill, Greenwich,[233]where he built two seats, one of them called the Bastile, and built on the model of that prison, where, it is said, the whimsical architect had once been confined and treated with humanity.[234]Another house, built in the same style, at Blackheath, and called the Mincepie House, was lately inhabited by a descendant of its first proprietor.[235]

Alluding to Blenheim, Swift observes—

“That if his Grace were no more skilled inThe art of battering walls than building,We might expect to see next yearA mouse-trap-man chief engineer.”

“That if his Grace were no more skilled in

The art of battering walls than building,

We might expect to see next year

A mouse-trap-man chief engineer.”

Such was the opinion entertained by a contemporary wit, of Vanburgh’s architecture. In heraldic science he is said to have been less skilled than the least of the pursuivants. His comedies, renowned for the well-sustained ease and spirit of the dialogue, are, to those who deem the gratification of curiosity cheaply bought by an acquaintance with all that is accounted most licentious, curious as pictures of the manners of the times in which they were written.

We have seen how successfully the Duchess of Marlborough contrived to connect her family, by alliances of her daughters, with several of the most exalted families in the kingdom. Her energetic mind now devoted itself with equal zeal and perseverance to the proper settlement of her eldest granddaughter, the Lady Harriot Godolphin, in whose matrimonial prospects she took a lively interest, notwithstanding that the Countess of Godolphin, the young lady’s mother, was still alive. The Duchess fixed her hopes, as a son-in-law, on Thomas Pelham Holles, maternal nephew of John Holles, Duke of Newcastle, whose title he obtained by creation. Pelham Holles, at the time when the Duchess’s speculations were first directed towards him, was Earl of Clare, under which designation we find, in the correspondence between her grace and her confidential agent, that the future Duke was mentioned.

It was in the beginning of 1714 that a marriage treaty between the house of Marlborough and that of Newcastle was first contemplated by the Duchess.[236]It is needless to specify, what is well known, that in those times, and in the rank which the Duchess filled, marriage was seldom an affair in which those mainly interested wereallowed to judge, or to reject. It was usually a contract between relations, acting, as they considered, most effectually for the happiness of two individuals whom they wished to see betrothed; the condition being that the parties were well assorted in station, the portion of the lady competent, and the fortune of the gentleman equivalent to what she or her friends had a right to expect. The negociation which is unfolded in the correspondence of the Duchess and Sir J. Vanburgh, is a perfect specimen of this species of contract, in which the parties had not even seen each other, until matters had advanced somewhat too far to be withdrawn.

Lord Clare, or, to call him by his subsequent title, the Duke of Newcastle, appears, however, to have had higher and juster views of the state of matrimony than most of the noblemen of his day, who regarded it as a mere tie of convenience, or means of aggrandisement, and who troubled themselves very little about the disposition or sentiments of the family into which, for sundry reasons, they entered. The character of Pelham Holles, Duke of Newcastle, seems, at the period of the correspondence of which he was the subject, to have been singularly discreet and amiable. He was not, indeed, a man of high qualities, nor of such extensive and solid attainmentsas to justify the extraordinary success which afterwards, in attaining the highest posts in the government, he enjoyed. Devoted to politics, and to the party of Townshend and Walpole; a zealous promoter of the Protestant succession; he led a life of bustle, and was constantly in search of popularity; always in confusion, often promising what he could never grant, yet performing well the domestic duties of his station. Kind, though exact, as a master, and energetic in all his official duties, he might certainly be deemed highly respectable.

Not foreseeing the great eminence to which he was destined to rise, the young nobleman, at this period of his life, earnestly desired to connect himself in marriage with some family suitable to his own in wealth and influence. His views might not have been directed to the Marlborough family, had not the Duchess, to whom Vanburgh was at that time a willing agent, imparted from her grace some hints that a matrimonial connexion between her granddaughter and Lord Clare would not be unacceptable.[237]Vanburgh, like a true votary of the great, in those days of patronage, took his cue from the Duchess’s expressions; and as the dramatist had many opportunities of sharing Lord Clare’sleisure hours, the Duchess could not, in some respects, have employed any person more likely to promote her speculations.

Vanburgh thus described the commencement of those operations which were intended to unite the great houses of Churchill and Pelham Holles. Writing to the Duchess, he says—“I have brought into discourse the characters of several women, that I might have a natural occasion to bring in hers, (Lady Harriott’s,) which I have then dwelt a little upon, and, in the best manner I could, distinguished her from the rest. This I have taken three or four occasions to do, without the least appearance of having any view in it, thinking the rightest thing I could do would be to possess him with a good impression of her, before I hinted at anything more.”[238]

This skilful generalship for some time did not appear to meet with the success which it merited. Lady Harriott, unfortunately, was not handsome; the family stock of beauty which she inherited from her mother had been sadly amalgamated with the flat and homely features of Sidney Lord Godolphin, than whom a more ordinary individual, if one may judge from his portraits, seems not to have existed. Moreover, her portion was undecided, and the noble suitor whom her friendssought for her, at first but coldly allowed her merits; hinting, though “but very softly,” that whilst he admired the fine qualities which Sir John described, he could have wished her external charms had been equal to those of her heart and understanding.[239]

This half-disclosed objection, Sir John Vanburgh met with the observation, that though he “did not believe Lady Harriott would ever have a beautiful face, he could plainly see that it would prove a very agreeable one, which he thought infinitely more valuable, especially when he observed one thing in her—namely, a very good expression of countenance.” “In short,” added the skilful reasoner, “it was certain Lady Harriott’s figure would be good; and he would pawn all his skill in such matters, if in two years time the Lady Harriott would not be as much admired as any lady in town.”

Lord Clare did not in the least contradict what Sir John said, but allowed “that he might very possibly be right.” This conversation took place in January, 1714; and two years elapsed before the subject was formally resumed between the Duchess’s subservient friend, and his patron, Lord Clare. In the course of these two years, Lord Clare became Duke of Newcastle, and theDuchess of Marlborough’s anxiety to hail him as a relative was probably not diminished by that circumstance. The Duke, meantime, had seen no woman who exactly came up to his ideas of what his wife ought to be, in order that he might expect from her that domestic happiness to which he appears to have aspired. The idea of being connected with the Marlborough family, and the expectation of a considerable fortune if he connected himself with a member of that wealthy house, added to the constant representations of Sir John Vanburgh in favour of the alliance, maintained the desire, which the Duke had always in some degree cherished, of uniting himself with the Lady Harriott. At the same time, having made many observations upon the bad education given to ladies of rank in that day, the Duke felt, as he expressed to his friend Vanburgh, a much greater anxiety to find in his wife an intelligent and amiable friend and companion, than to carry away what would be commonly considered a prize, either of beauty or of fortune. But at length, weary of delay, he wrote to his friend Vanburgh that he had formed a resolution of marrying somewhere before the winter was over, and again entered upon the subject of Lady Harriott.[240]

This cessation of the treaty is explained by theDuchess of Marlborough, in the curious correspondence from which this narrative is taken. The original proposal, on her side, to Lord Clare, was to be so managed as to save him the pain of sending her grace a refusal, if he declined it: a negociation, with respect to fortune, was carried on between Vanburgh and a mutual friend of Lord Clare and of the Duchess.

As it might be expected, the treaty had gone on very smoothly, until the conversation turned upon money. Some “civil things about the alliance,” to use the Duchess’s phrase, had been said; but the dowry required to make the plain Lady Harriott saleable was no less a sum than forty thousand pounds. Upon this demand the Duchess had broken off the negociation, concluding, as she afterwards declared, that the Duke of Newcastle or his friends must think such a demand the most effectual way of breaking off the affair; “since,” as she added, “Lady Harriott was neither a ‘monster nor a citizen,’ and she had never heard of such a fortune in any other case, unless it were an only child.” Yet to show, as she states, that she was not mercenary, she had afterwards refused a most considerable offer for her granddaughter, where she could have had her own conditions. In such business-like and bartering terms did the custom of the day lead the Duchess to expressherself upon a matter of no less importance than happiness, or unhappiness, the utmost bliss or the most hopeless misery.

Two years, therefore, had elapsed before anything more was done; and Lady Harriott, meantime, had been introduced by her grandmother into the fashionable circles of Bath; and that circumstance again aroused the apprehensions of the cautious Pelham Holles. Whether he dreaded that she would there have formed some acquaintance which might have produced an entanglement of the heart—whether he fancied that the influence which her grandmother exercised over her might induce the young lady to accept a desirable match when her affections were elsewhere bestowed; or whether he was merely desirous of ascertaining how far the scenes of dissipation had power to elicit foibles and failings in the young Lady Harriott—does not appear. From the strict inquiries which he anxiously and repeatedly made when the treaty was renewed, of her conduct at Bath, we must however conclude that the peer, in spite of his determination to marry before the winter was over, was not so indiscreet in his haste as to rush into bonds, unless he were well satisfied that they would produce a happy union. Such were his notions of the sex at this time, that, to use his own words to Vanburgh, he almost despairedof meeting with a woman whose ideas of conjugal duty would accord with his own expectations. Impressed with the difficulty of a choice, he earnestly and emphatically entreated Sir John Vanburgh to inform him if he knew anything of the lady, that could abate the extraordinary impression that he had received of her merits.

Sir John could add nothing disparaging to the high encomiums which he had passed on Lady Harriott, and a fresh negociation was accordingly entered upon with the Duchess, who expressed herself delighted with the renewal of a treaty which she had considered as finally abandoned. Sir John, meantime, was very zealous, and the affair proceeded flourishingly, and ended, eventually, in the marriage of Lady Harriott and the Duke of Newcastle.[241]

So far Vanburgh seems to have acted well his part of a friend and mediator; but he soon found that matchmaking was by no means the most desirable occupation in the world. Although he had, by successful arguments, brought the Duke of Newcastle “into the mind to marryLady Harriott,” the Duchess appears to have acted towards him unhandsomely and ungratefully. It seems to have been her grace’s mode for avenging Sir John’s errors of taste and miscalculations at Blenheim, to remove her confidence from him in the nice affair which he had had her commands to bring about to another useful friend. Whilst the architect and his patroness were together at Bath and at Blenheim, she never mentioned a syllable of the projected marriage to him, but, by transferring the negociation to one Mr. Walter, implied that Vanburgh was no longer worthy of the trust she had reposed in him. It was not long before Vanburgh, indignant at her conduct, addressed to her grace a letter, explanatory but respectful, excepting when, in the conclusion, he declares that he should be surprised, but not sorry, to find that she had imposed her commands and entrusted her commission to some other person.[242]

The Duchess, in her reply to Sir John Vanburgh, entered distinctly into the whole process by which the match had been revived and perfected. She acknowledged her obligations to Sir John Vanburgh; she explained her conduct, if not satisfactorily, at least graciously; and concludedby declaring, “that if any third person should say that she had behaved ill to Sir John, she should be very sorry for it, and should be very ready even to ask his pardon.”[243]

Before this temperate letter reached him, Sir John Vanburgh, not to his credit, had sent a very abusive, coarse, and insolent epistle. It appears that he had discovered that the Duchess had devolved the completion of Blenheim into other hands. Under the excitement produced by this discovery, he gave vent to a torrent of invective, which seldom accompanies a good cause.

The Duchess, as it happened, received this singular ebullition from her former confidante before her own letter was despatched; whereupon she took up her pen, and, in the excess of her wrath, added a postscript; concluding in these words:—“Upon the receiving of that very insolent letter, upon the eighth of the same month, ’tis easy to imagine that I wished to have had the civility I expressed in the letter back again, and was very sorry that I had fouled my fingers in writing to such a fellow.”[244]

Sir John Vanburgh’s reply had called forth this elegant conclusion; he appears to have been resolved to prove that he could equal her grace in vituperation. In order clearly to understandthe merits of the case, it is necessary to give at length the letter which the Duchess “fouled her fingers” to answer. It would be a pity to garble so characteristic a document.

“Whitehall, Nov. 8th, 1716.

“Madam,—When I writ to your grace on Thursday last, I was much at a loss what could be the ground of your having dropped me, in the service I had been endeavouring to do you and your family with the Duke of Newcastle, upon your own sole motion and desire. But having since been shown, by Mr. Richards, a large packet of building papers sent him by your grace, I find the reason was, that you had resolved to use me so ill in respect of Blenheim, as must make it impracticable to employ me in any other branch of your service.

“These papers, madam, are so full offar-fetched laboured accusations, mistaken facts, wrong inferences, groundless jealousies, and strained constructions, that I should put a very great affront upon your understanding if I supposed it possible you could mean anything in earnest bythem, but to put a stop to my troubling you any more. You have your end, madam, for I will never trouble you more, unless the Duke of Marlborough recovers so far to shelter me from such intolerable treatment.

“I shall in the mean time have only this concern on his account, (for whom I shall ever retain the greatest veneration,) that your grace having, like the Queen, thought fit to get rid of a faithful servant, the Tories will have the pleasure to see your glassmaker, Moor, make just such an end of the Duke’s building as her minister Harley did of his victories, for which it was erected.

“I am your Grace’s“Most obedient servant,“J. Vanburgh.

“I am your Grace’s

“Most obedient servant,

“J. Vanburgh.

“If your grace will give me leave to print your papers, I’ll do it very exactly, and without any answer or remarkbut this short letter attached to the tail of them, that the world may know I desired they might be published.”

The Duke of Marlborough, it appears, was kept in ignorance of all the missiles of abuse which were passing between his Duchess and her once faithful servant. But, observing that Vanburgh absented himself from Marlborough-houseand Blenheim, the kind-hearted Marlborough inquired into the cause of that circumstance. Throughout the whole affair he seems to have been moderate, unoffending, and just, as it was his nature to be; but eventually he coincided with his wife, and the building of Blenheim was transferred to other hands.

Upon hearing that the Duke had inquired for him, Vanburgh wrote a long explanation, in which some traces of regret are discoverable. Since it is, in the main points, merely a recapitulation of the whole affair, we must refer the reader, who may be curious to judge for himself upon this amusing controversy, to the Appendix of this volume.

Severe and real trials awaited the Duchess, and ought to have bowed her head in humility, and softened her vindictive feelings to others. But the discipline of events appears to have effected but little change in her proud and fierce disposition.

Whilst wealth and undisputed honours might procure a cheerful retirement, it was the will of Providence that the decline of these two celebrated persons into the sear and yellow leaf should be visited by those bereavements which anticipate Time in his devastations upon the frame of man, and aid him of his privilege infurrowing the brow, and making the cheek wan. From the period when they could discern the opening characters of infancy in their children, the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough had considered themselves peculiarly blessed in two of their daughters—Elizabeth Countess of Bridgewater, and Anne Countess of Sunderland. The world corroborated by its testimony the good opinion of the parents. Lady Bridgewater was domestic in her habits, affectionate, dutiful, and religious. She appears to have taken less part in political affairs than her sisters, Lady Rialton and Lady Sunderland, who were evidently esteemed by the Tory party to be the chief female supporters of their adversaries.[246]Yet Lady Bridgewater, in common with the rest of her family, had evinced her displeasure at the dismissal of her mother, and the change of the ministry in 1711–12. When, at that time, it happened that the presentation of Prince Eugene took place, and all the Tory courtiers, “monstrous fine,” as Swift described them, thronged to see the Queen present him with a diamond sword, the Countess of Bridgewater is thus mentioned among the “birth-day chat” with which Swift consoled Stella for his absence.

“I saw Lady Wharton, as ugly as the devil, coming out in a crowd, all in an undress; she had been with the Marlborough daughters and Lady Bridgewater in St. James’s, looking out of the window, all undressed, to see the sight.”[247]

This is one of the few instances in which we find Lady Bridgewater mentioned in public; and, in March 22nd, 1714, her brief career closed, the small-pox proving fatal to her, as it had done to her brother. She was only twenty-six years of age at the time of her death.

Lady Sunderland had a more distinguished, and, as far as we may judge, a more arduous part in life to act, than either of her sisters. Unlike Lady Rialton, afterwards Lady Godolphin, and the Duchess of Manchester, she retained the affection of her imperious mother, even through political turmoils, in which the Duke of Sunderland often differed from the Duchess, and displeased the Duke of Marlborough. The Countess was one whom remarkable worldly advantages could not withdraw from a consciousness that this state, however blessed, is only a preparatory process by which the human heart is to be purified. She lived in the world uncorrupted; uninjured by admiration, which pursued her, from friend or foe; untainted by ambition, the besetting failing ofher family; beautiful, but nobly aspiring to be somewhat more than the beauty paramount of the day; accomplished, yet humble; of a lively imagination, yet of unimpeached prudence, and of sound judgment. Station, fashion, and, yet more, the conscious influence of her fascinating qualities, were enjoyed by her in safety; for she had that within, a pure and devout heart, which kept her unspotted from the world.

Lady Sunderland had been much at court, until, upon the Queen’s dismissal of her mother, she resigned her offices. Her social reputation was such, and her power in consequence so acknowledged, that Swift, who stood watching which way the gales of royal favour blew, was not ashamed to own his adulatory advances towards her, on one occasion when the Queen’s indecision left him in considerable doubt as to which party would prevail.

“I was to-day at court,” writes the double and obsequious divine, in 1711, “and resolved to be very civil to the Whigs, but saw few there. When I was in the bedchamber talking to Lord Rochester, he went up to Lady Burlington, who asked him who I was, and Lady Sunderland and she whispered about me. I desired Lord Rochester to tell Lady Sunderland, I doubted she was notas much in love with me as I was with her, but he would not deliver my message.”[248]

After the return of the Duke and Duchess to England, it was the arduous office of the Countess of Sunderland to interpose her mild influence between the hasty temper of her husband and the overbearing spirit of her mother. She was the only one of “Marlborough’s daughters” who could brook the maternal authority, exercised even over her grown-up children with unsparing rigour; and Marlborough regarded this dutiful and forbearing child with peculiar affection, on that very account. Yet it was evident, after her decease, that she both respected and loved her mother, since to her care she confided those whom she herself most loved.[249]

In her husband’s temper and propensities, Lady Sunderland found that counterbalance to her many worldly advantages, which those who enjoy the happiest lot must in this world experience. Lord Sunderland, from the account of historians, appears to have been of a factious, unhappy spirit; to have quarrelled with his best friends; to have failed in his ambition, not from want of abilities, but from want of conduct, and to have beenalienated, by his rash and conceited deportment, from those who could alone save and serve him.[250]He had also a turn for extravagance, and a passion for gaming; and the last years of his more discreet wife were embittered by anxiety respecting a suitable provision for his children, an anxiety which events fully justified in the imprudent marriage which the Earl formed after her death.

Yet was the Countess sincerely devoted to this uncongenial being, to whom political interests had caused her to be united at an age when she was too young to form a judgment upon such matters. When he was absent in Vienna, on an embassy, she composed a prayer, found among her papers after her death, dictated by the most ardent attachment to her husband, and by the purest and most exalted devotion to her Maker.[251]One would be apt to think highly of that man who could inspire such a woman with such an affection, but that daily and hourly we witness how the most disinterested and warmest feelings are bestowed by female hearts on unworthy objects, and how they are perpetuated by a sense of duty, by habit, by gratitude.

Lady Sunderland had long suffered from theapproaches of a mortal disorder, which she sustained with the spirit that became her. In her patience and christian resignation, she was consistent to the rest of her conduct. On the 15th of April, 1714, very shortly after the death of her sister, she was removed to a happier state; a fever, with which her impaired constitution could not struggle, closing, thus abruptly and mercifully, a life which might have lingered underneath the less violent attacks of a chronic disease.

Her death was a severe blow to both her parents. In her, the Duchess lost the only solace which filial duty could supply; for her remaining daughters loved her not, and even from her grandchildren she failed to experience comfort. Among her mother’s papers was found the following letter, eloquent in its simple beauty, and deeply affecting to the parents, who could trace, in its touching requests, the pure but fretted spirit of their anxious child. The Duchess, according to her usual custom, had endorsed it with these words: “A copy of what my dear daughter wrote to her Lord, not to be given to him till after she was dead.”[252]

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